


backfire

by thunderylee



Category: KAT-TUN (Band), Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-26
Packaged: 2019-01-28 12:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12606236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Taguchi’s puns cannot be stopped, even with great sacrifice and dedication.





	backfire

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“Those look _flippin’_ good!”

Ohkura cracks open one eye and thinks about glaring; he’s too hung over to actually do it. Instead he flips the pancake in the frying pan, listening to it sizzle and cursing his luck at losing the janken game that decided who would be making breakfast.

“They don’t _stack_ up to my mom’s, though,” Taguchi goes on, grinning entirely too hard for someone who polished off a half a bottle of Jäger last night.

“One more pun and I’m beating you with this spatula,” Ohkura says tonelessly.

“Aw, Tacchon, I’m sorry,” Taguchi replies, and it would be sincere if not for that goddamn grin. “Are my jokes falling _flat_?”

Ohkura’s tired enough to follow through with his threat, lifting the spatula over his head, but he’s also tired enough to be thwarted before he can even start to swat. Taguchi grabs the handle and Ohkura grunts in frustration, reaching for his friend’s face instead and shutting him up with his mouth.

It works, miraculously, and Ohkura swells with pride at his brilliance. Then the spatula clatters to the floor as his back meets the edge of the counter, a hot tongue invading his senses and now he’s swelling with something else.

He’s not entirely awake, but it feels good and Taguchi’s doing all of the work anyway. Strong hands on his ass pull him closer, slipping past the waistband of his sweatpants and squeezing his flesh. Taguchi had gone from zero to rock in six seconds, but Ohkura catches up fast, moaning into their kiss as they grind.

The smell of something burning breaks through the cloud of arousal, his eyes opening to real clouds of smoke as he slaps his hand against the back panel of the stove in an attempt to turn it off. It occurs to him too late that this may not be a very good idea, but Taguchi saves them both by grabbing the frying pan by the handle and tossing the whole thing into the sink.

As it sizzles, Ohkura starts to frown sadly at the loss of his pancakes, but then Taguchi kisses him harder and lifts him to the counter.

“This is _smokin’_ hot,” Taguchi whispers, and Ohkura twists his fingers a little too roughly in Taguchi’s hair.

He learns that Taguchi likes that, but a cock-twitching moan is much more preferable than anything else that comes out of his mouth. Ohkura wonders what else can make him do that.

Naturally his hand goes straight for Taguchi’s junk, rubbing the head through his pants and gasping at the groan Taguchi emits. The temperature gets cooler as his clothes are tugged away, going right back up when he and Taguchi are skin to skin, flesh to flesh and Ohkura’s legs curl around Taguchi’s waist without any prompting.

Ohkura expects fingers, quickly doing a mental inventory of his kitchen cabinets in a desperate search for easily-accessible lube, but then Taguchi abruptly tears his mouth away and presses wet kisses down his chest. He makes a beeline for Ohkura’s erection and Ohkura is fine with that, too. Except that his length remains untouched, Taguchi completely bypassing it in favor of leaning down and spreading Ohkura’s thighs with both hands.

He feels a breeze somewhere new and his eyes pop open, suddenly wide awake and on edge with the realization of what Taguchi is about to do. He doesn’t have time to fully process it before Taguchi’s tongue is between his legs, licking its way inside him and the thick silence is interrupted by a loud bang as Ohkura tosses his head back and connects with the wall cabinet.

“Ow,” he groans, which lifts into a more pleasant kind with each flick of Taguchi’s tongue. “Can we move?”

It comes out whinier than he intended, but it serves the purpose as Taguchi effortlessly picks him up. He doesn’t get very far, but the surface is much larger and Taguchi lays Ohkura out like a buffet, which is appropriate given the nature of their activity.

“I should eat at the table anyway,” Taguchi says.

Ohkura would kick him if it wasn’t for the little matter of Taguchi lapping at him like a fucking ice cream cone, his legs spread as far as they’ll go and his knees hooked on his elbows. His body shudders uncontrollably, his breaths coming in gasps and mixed with deep noises that have Taguchi moving faster.

A lone finger trails the length of his cock and he bucks up, seeking out the touch like it’s his air to breathe and Taguchi chuckles, the bass of his voice vibrating the relaxed rim. Ohkura moans out loud, physically reaching down for Taguchi’s shoulders and pulling as hard as he can.

“You want it right here?” Taguchi asks smugly, settling between Ohkura’s legs and bumping his cock against Ohkura’s thigh.

It leaves a wet streak of precome, and Ohkura drops his nails to Taguchi’s sides. “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Table sex is kind of kinky,” Taguchi tells him, tearing open a gel packet and Ohkura doesn’t even bother to understand where it came from. “Lucky for you, I’m _up_ for it.”

Before Ohkura can react, Taguchi follows his words with his cock and it goes in easier than it should. Filling him completely, only burning a little until Taguchi bottoms out and makes a beautiful noise into Ohkura’s chest. Taguchi gives him a second to adjust, then the table legs scrape the floor with the force of his thrusts as he slowly pulls back and sharply pushes back in.

Ohkura arches, his hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth table unsuccessfully. They end up in Taguchi’s hair, stroking in some semblance of affection as he grunts out his breaths in time with Taguchi’s rhythm. He feels strangely attuned to the other man, the scenery and conscious-level reality disappearing in favor of just _feeling._

Then there’s a hand around his cock, fingers pulling him off and Ohkura’s voice rises, resounding in his own head as Taguchi brings him to orgasm. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t hear what Taguchi mutters after, probably some stupid pun about coming as he does exactly that, clinging to Ohkura hard enough to crush him as he shakes and finally stills.

“You made me burn the pancakes,” Ohkura grumbles, wincing as he tries to stretch on the hard table.

“Just call me Dante,” Taguchi says breathlessly. “Hell hath no fury like _my_ inferno.”

Ohkura knows he’s spent too much time with Taguchi when just the thought of ‘backfire’ makes him roll his eyes.


End file.
